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Dez Apr 2020
When things fall apart pick up the pieces and make some art!
Jules Oct 2019
What I feel and what I deserve don't coincide
This is something different
Something I don't usually abide
I'm at a loss
I'm torn
I don't want it all to fall apart
This is crazy
but so are we baby
Anna Jul 2019
I’m falling to pieces and I feel so alone.
I feel like I have no place to call home.
I’m in shambles
fray narte Jul 2019
our falling apart isn’t like having heartbreak lines sitting on my chest, waiting to be written when i wake up and realize you’re gone. it isn’t like sinking into the absence of your coffee-scented lips on my temple, or walking into a dust storm caught in the sunbeams in your room. it isn’t like those cold, two a.m. nights where you find yourself singing stay with derek sanders and breaking down into a puddle of unbearable pain, hoping that each guitar strum will take you away from our memories.

no, our falling apart isn’t like that. it isn’t immaculate.

it isn’t an indie-film-kinda-heartbreak, nor is it poetic.

you see, we fell apart simply because you loved me — you loved me so ******* much, darling.

and i wasn’t quite sure what to do with it.
Fathur Abinaya Jul 2019
Darkest of all night,
This pain that I had,
Striking straight to my heart,
Destroyed, fall apart.

Limitless of pieces,
Spread out to the universe,
Seeking for fulfillness,
Instead of happiness.
fray narte Jun 2019
the thing with falling in love with a poet
is that only the heartbreak is good enough
to qualify as poetry.
all the roller-coaster rush
and the picnics on the hill
and the first time your hands brush together
on your first date and they take yours
to fill the gaps between their finger,
and the aimless walks looking for
somewhere to eat
and the first time they said i love you
but it wasn’t perfect
so they’d written you a poem
because that seemed closer
to perfect
than those three words —
somehow, at some point,
all of these gets overlooked
like words in a history book
he wouldn’t read even if he was stuck with it in a dream.

the thing with falling in love with a poet
is that it is falling in love with a stranger
who writes poetry at 8 am or 10 pm, hoping
to find his lover back in front of him
when he reaches the last word and raises up his head.
it is falling in love
with someone whose walls seem to echo
the first time they said i love you
three years ago,
it is falling in love with someone
who could still be writing about the love of his life
and sometimes, the consonants
in her name
look like the
vowel in yours
but it’s not you, honey,
it’s just
not you.

he said i shouldn’t mistake
falling in love with his words
for falling in love with him,
so i thought
how could that be, when his words
were the words i wanted to kiss?
how could that be, when he was
the poetry i wanted to read?

one time,
i asked him if he would write me a poem
if he ever fell out of love.

and he said he would never fall out of love.

and he did.

without any warning —
without any melancholic farewell,
or messy kisses on the kitchen floor,
or desperate pleads for us to stay.
he fell out of love with me —
without writing any heartbreak poem;

but then again, maybe it was because
all heartbreak poems, even if it was us falling apart,
would still be written for you.

the night he left,
he forgot to take his poetry collection
all written in the tattered pages
of that black notebook i got him,
and it was full of pages folded in halves
and it was full of your name in lazy scribbles
and it was full of his words
wanting you back.

it was the night we broke up
yet it was still you, breaking his heart —

it was the night he decided he could no longer pretend
he loved me.
it was the night he decided he could no longer pretend
i was you.
An attempt at a spoken poetry piece
M Apr 2019
There's a pleasure in reading well-crafted sentences so I try my hardest but they fall apart
Inked Quill Mar 2019
I guess
We fell apart
In the most
Usual way
But then why
Does it hurt
When I see you
In the crowd everyday...
Asominate Jan 2019
They keep laughing at me
Their noise flow forth from the DEPTHs of their throats
On their thrones they point their fingers
I see their diaphragms trembling in glee

So what if you don't like the real me?
I don't CARE
These aren' the colours I should see


They're not there.

I see the colours, the pictures
The words never come
Plot twist! (Actual scene): Just did bad on a test I give my all in and the teacher calls out my score in front of all the class. They stare in surprise at me since I'm one of 'those guys' that's perfection as I try not to fall apart in public.
Why does when I get tense, my vision loses colour?
Whisperer Jan 2019
" I have to leave. Please don't fall apart "

How could you think I won't ?
When you took with yourself
All the strings that were holding my shattered heart
" Don't be that way, fall apart twice a day. I just wish you could feel what you say"
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